The Book of Warlock

The Book of Warlock 24. Until we meet again

  There was a moment of freefall, a lurch in the pit of the stomach, a feeling of weightlessness. Time had stood still. They were immobilised, unable to think, incapable of breathing. Frozen. The space between the tick of a clock.

Then with a rush of blood all the senses came back to them, their lungs gasped and fingers twitched, wind rushed past them and faint countryside sounds reached their long ears.

Anar groaned, dizziness overwhelming him. His grey skin tingled.

Luci half ran, half fell, stumbling as she went, headed in the direction of the broken conservatory. "Hemlock! Victus!" she cried, reaching forward with her arms as though it could propel her faster.

Anar had so many questions.

The bright sun was still blurry, the yellow lines of its travels fading now in the sky. His vision, once fuzzy, began to clear.

He turned around, careful to pace his movements as nausea was still gripping his gut.

The Dragon was in a crumpled heap, his form shrunken and shrivelled; his scales, once crimson and gleaming, now dull and rusted. He looked like a frail pitiful creature, curled up in a fetal position, a low keening burbling from his dry lips.

"What did you do?" Anar asked, his voice laden with fear. He had his theories. What he'd seen, what he'd felt, what he knew of dragon's capabilities, they all lead to one awful conclusion.

Still The dragon cried. A song of loss. A melody of grief.

Anar recalled the same noise from Nisgarant, at the moment he lost his beloved Tri-Corn Horn Sceptre.

But Valentino had his weapons back, didn't he? Wasn't that the only thing he really cared about? Anar asked again, "what did you do, dragon?!"

"I did what I must," he uttered weakly, "I did what only I could, to travel against the flow of the universe..."

Luci came back, cradling her son in her arms, rubbing Victus's head gently between his ears, soothingly, as he bawled in distress.

"YOU!" she roared. Her eyes flashed, and her hair bounced about her shoulders as she strode dangerously towards the miserable creature. "You did this! You led the Council straight to us! You evil, backstabbing, traitorous bastard!" she walked straight past Anar and lifted an expensive boot, swinging her leg back and kicking him hard enough for an audible 'crack!'.

"Whoa, whoa!" Anar objected, grabbing her sleeve.

She turned her wrath onto him, "I warned you that dragons didn't have friends!" she screeched. "This... this thing wouldn't know a friend if its life depended upon it!"

"I'm sorry," The dragon cried, weakly, "I'm so sorry." He wouldn't move from the floor where he'd fell. It was possible that he wouldn't be moving for quite a while.

"You don't know what sorry is!" Luci hissed, her leg twitching in a threat of another kick.

Anar attempted to calm her, "Shall I hold Victus? Is Hemlock ok? I have no clue what just happened. I don't even know if I want to know... just tell me everyone is ok."

"We are far from ok, Anar! The council have fancy names for the things they do, but to put it in layman's terms, we're under a blood curse." Luci held Victus's tiny grey hand out, showing a puncture wound. "They took his blood! Everyone knows blood magic can only be performed by the most powerful of wielders. I dread to even think what cruel blade they stabbed our son with."

Victus pulled his hand back, a high-pitched whine showing his discomfort and upset. The aardvarkian child rubbed his snotty snout on his mother's sweater.